


Manger Comme Les Enfants

by lionor



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Kid Fic, Spaghetti
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionor/pseuds/lionor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chekov alone of the entire bridge crew is still an adult, and it's up to him to save the day, combatting bratty children with the wiles of comfort food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manger Comme Les Enfants

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that somehow the kidfics one writes at 4 am can be forgiven. The plot is nonsensical and the science more so, but really, what more can one want from a kidfic?

Chekov was not used to being the oldest. He hadn’t seen his family in Russia for years, and he’d gone to private academies for rich kids and prodigies (he was decidedly of the latter category) before his acceptance into Star Fleet, and the sum of all that was that he was always just a kid being vaguely ignored by most people except when they needed his brilliance or a smile at his accent.

So, when he found himself as possibly the only ranking officer aboard the Enterprise who was not between the ages of 6 and 10, he was at somewhat of a loss for a moment. He stared down at the straw-haired 9-year-old and murmured, “Keptin?” halfway hoping Kirk would snap out of whatever insane science had suddenly gripped the ship.

Kirk only looked up at him and sniggered. “Keptin? Oh my gosh you should talk some more because that was fantastic!” 

Chekov frowned and sighed. “I am sorry…Jim,” (Chekov stumbled: calling the captain Jim was difficult for him even at the most jovial of times, but this child certainly couldn’t handle the title) “…but I am not speaking for your amusement….hey! Lieutenant Sulu I must ask you to stop hitting that button immediately!” 

Sulu spun around with all the guilt of being caught reaching into a cookie jar. “What button?” he asked, eyes wide.

Chekov gaped. “Hikaru, the button you were just pressing, it will-“

It already had. An alarm sounded and before Chekov could call down to engineering to have it halted, a squeaky Scottish voice sounded over the comm. “Hey, what’s that horrible noise? I cannae even think! And why is everything suddenly bigger?” Chekov sighed. Scotty was still himself, if a child. That made very little sense, but at least they had a genius and an (albeit shrunken) engineer to get this situation fixed. 

“Mr. Scott, I’m sorry to say that everyone but, vell, me I believe, is a child. You are too, but you seem to have your memories. The bridge crew is completely…deaged, sir!” He paused a moment and spluttered. “No, Lieutenant Uhura, you cannot do zat! Stop! Commander Spock, just because you do not like Keptin Kirk holding your hand does not mean you may try to hit him. Scotty, you must help me! Please find out if Dr. McCoy has been affected.” 

Scotty, down in engineering, peered around, cursing his eight-year-old height. The distressed voice of Chekov filtered through the still-open comm unit. “I’m giving it all I can, Ensign, but the sensors no longer recognize my voice. You’ll have to override the code!”

Chekov tried not to swear in front of suddenly impressionable youth. Of course, his authorization code was chock-full of the hardest parts of the English phonetic language. Kirk laughed uproariously as the weary and irritated ensign tried a third time, and Uhura and Spock watched him with a terrifyingly scientific gaze, despite their childish giggles. Sulu had gotten up to wander about the bridge, touching things. He looked to be about six years old. Other bridge crewmembers were laughing and hitting each other. Chekov could feel the rising tide of anxiety grip him. He had no control over these children, no way to fix the problem without knowing why this had happened, and he couldn’t even think because all the brats did was talk…”QUIET EVERYBODY!” he bellowed at last. The bridge went quiet. Over the comm, Scotty confirmed that Bones was a boy of about eleven, but seemed to have maintained his memories. “Zat is better,” said Chekov after a moment. “Now, I am sorry for all of this and if you all ever remember this, please forgive me, but I need all of you to be quiet and behave yourselves for just a moment.”

Jim, of all the children, looked contrite. “Sorry, I didn’t realize we were so distracting for you. You seem nice. How can we help?”

The tiny child who had been Commander Spock shook his head. “Jim, it is illogical to assume we can be of any use. It is clear we are aboard a federation vessel that will naturally be crewed by adults, and we are obviously much too young. The fact that we are aboard the bridge at all is a breach of protocol.” The young Vulcan cast a withering glance at Chekov. 

Chekov sighed again. “Spock, you are very right.” At this, the young Vulcan glowed. “In fact, I will take you all down to sickbay immediately where I’m sure we can figure something out.” 

The children seemed to take pity on the ensign, and Kirk piped up with, “Hey, maybe we can play operation!” Other children leapt at this thrilling prospect, and paraded to the elevator. 

When Chekov reached sickbay with the children, he was elated to see Nurse Chapel still very much an adult. She ushered most of the bridge crew into a room, leaving only the stubborn Jim and attaché Spock behind. Bones appeared and glared at Chekov. “Dam – Darn it, man, I’m a child! What am I supposed to do with this, huh? You can’t harvest the field when the plants are barely seedlings. It’s you, me, Scotty, well, barely, and Chapel. Got a plan, whiz kid?” Kirk snickered at the child doctor’s phrasing.

Chekov could feel a headache coming on. Bones’s gruff attitude was fine in a man of over forty, but in a boy it was disconcerting. He was about to mention how odd it was, but Spock beat him to it. “Your colloquialisms are remarkable for a human boy, and your sense of metaphor is almost alarming,” the child said evenly. Bones glowered, and suddenly seemed very eleven.

Chapel and Scotty conferred with Chekov while Bones began to loudly refute Spock and Jim egged both sides on. Scotty sighed. “It seems that we’ve run into a problem with the warp core. It’s been turning the wrong way. That affects the food replicators, but only certain types of food. I think that’s what is causing the varying deaging effect. ‘Course, I could be wrong. I haven’t had a nap in a wee bit.”

Chapel nodded knowingly. “You’ve done very well, Mr. Scott. Could I get you a fruit cocktail and perhaps a bed to lie down on?” Scotty nodded, and Chekov was left to face the situation on his own.

And suddenly, he had an idea. “Jim, Spock, please come with me. I want you to tell me your favorite foods.” Just as he thought, at this age, they were very basic, comfort foods: things very seldom made on the replicators. He served them both a dish of Spaghetti-os, and soon they looked about 12 or 13. Chekov ordered them to get their fellows Spagetti-os as well, and hurried to engineering to fix the warp core. 

It was long, hard work, especially since no crewmember was fit to assist him. After a couple hours of careful thought and clever tinkering, Chekov had jury-rigged the warp core to turn the right direction until they could reach planetfall. The Enterprise’s crew continued to consume canned pasta until everyone had reached the proper age again. 

Sulu approached Chekov on the bridge as things were returning to normal. “So why didn’t you get turned into a kid? I don’t think it should do with how many people order certain foods, because I’m pretty sure I’m the only one on this ship eating extra-spicy vegetarian pot-stickers, and I was definitely six years old for longer than I like to think about.”

Chekov grinned. “I eat Spaghetti-os most evenings. I think that and the fact that I am not that much older than some of the deaged crewmembers.” He shrugged. “But we fixed it, right?”

Sulu grinned back and chuckled. “But that doesn’t explain Nurse Chapel.”

Spock appeared, normal age and dignity restored. “I believe, Lieutenant, that the Nurse once admitted to me that she was a great aficionado of the yogurt derivative, ‘Gogurt.’ A substance rarely replicated.” Sulu snorted in disbelief. 

Scotty barged onto the bridge. “Where is my daft little Russian lad?” he crowed affectionately. “Chekov, laddie, I’m impressed with the work you did on the warp core. Not a naycell out of place, though I’ll be glad to see her on planetfall soon.” Chekov accepted the praise with a smile and murmured how he’d just watched Scottty from shadowing. 

Kirk stepped down from the command chair, and gave him a pat on the back. “Ensign, I’m proud of you. Not many genius-level Star Fleet recruits can count canned pasta as part of their arsenals. Good job.” He proffered a plate. “And bon appétit.”


End file.
